


Golden

by JLaLa



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, F/M, In-Panem AU, Instances of PTSD, Loss of Virginity, Marriage Law Challenge, Pregnancy, Romance, Soldier Peeta, everlark, marriage law, mentions of Gadge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLaLa/pseuds/JLaLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mandatory law brought them together. Four years later, Peeta Mellark comes to District 12 to the daughter he’s never known and the wife he barely met. An In-Panem AU with the marriage law twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden

Written for a prompt challenge on Tumblr featuring the sentence: “I thought you were dead”.

The characters of The Hunger Games Trilogy do not belong to me.

Golden

We were never meant to marry.

This all began for her.

The rebellion had taken many away—too many. The once abundant Panem was dry of its citizens, many killed by Peacekeepers or bombings. The Capitol had the most casualties during the invasion of Snow’s Mansion, now non-existent because of the fire started by district rebels. The citizens had fled to the mansion for help and to their detriment. The fire bomb had taken out everyone and currently there is only 25% left of the Capitol elite.

So here we were, a crumbling nation, with the newly-appointed President Paylor trying to clean up a mess that she didn’t start. It was then that advisor Plutarch Heavensbee suggested something completely ridiculous and, unbelievably, Paylor endorsed it.

Mandatory marriages for those 16 and older. Marriages that would bring new life and citizens to the famine districts.

I had just turned 16 the year that the marriages took place.

The Games were gone, now replaced with something just as barbaric though heavily supported. How could it _not_ be? There was no one left in District 12 except those too old or weak to have joined the Rebellion.

That year, I traveled to the Capitol with three others my age—Gale Hawthorne, Madge Undersee, and Delly Cartwright—to find our appointed spouses.

There were physical exams to ensure that we were healthy enough for procreation, IQ assessments to judge our intelligence and finally psychological evaluations to make sure that we were in the right state of mind.

I snorted when the officials got to that part.

Dr. Aurelius, the psychologist, found me amusing. He asked me about my life in District 12, about my sister, Prim, and my mother who was the local clinician. He asked about my father who passed away when I was barely a teen and he asked about my hobbies—hunting, archery, and not starving to death.

Finally, he asked, “What would you want out of your marriage?”

I crossed my arms, resting back against the encompassing couch of his office, before boldly meeting his eyes.

“Would it be too much to ask for love?”

Dr. Aurelius shook his head, a small smile on his long face as he wrote down my answer.

“I think I’ve found your person,” he replied after a moment.

The next day, I was married to Peeta Mellark.

++++++

Peeta Mellark—a former resident of District 12 before he ran off to join the Rebellion. I was 12 when he left our grey town at the tender age of 16, climbing under the weak fencing of the District border and running into the forest. Everyone thought that he had died, assuming he starved to death since he had no survival training due to his Merchant upbringing.

Imagine everyone’s surprise when Peacekeepers came to our town, demanding information from Mr. Mellark about his youngest boy. Peeta was the one to bomb the Arena and free the Tributes from the massive deathtrap, ending The Hunger Games indefinitely.

We were paired together because I was like him—a survivalist. We were intelligent, my IQ being five points above his and we were healthy.

And, according to the DNA, our child would be the perfect genetic specimen.

I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t intimidated by Peeta. He came to see me in the facility where we were housed, all black uniform and stiff boots.

Peeta was handsome; ash-blond hair and crisply sharp blue eyes with finely structured cheekbones that cradled a solid jaw. He was strong-shouldered and I felt myself straighten in my blue dress—my best dress—as he approached.

“They said we were well-matched based on the tests,” he stated, his eyes roving over my stick-straight figure and stopping just a nanosecond on the bit of breasts that I had before meeting my stare.

“Tests can be wrong,” I found myself responding.

His mouth twitched at my words and something inside me leapt to see that I had made him smile—sort of.

Peeta looked to the facility official recording our visit. “She’ll do.”

Turning, he walked out of the room, never looking back.

++++++

I was married to him that very afternoon, along with ten other couples.

He took my hand during the appropriate times, repeated the vows as needed, and I did the same. Looking around, I was happy to see that Gale and Madge had been matched up. They looked happy. It was then that my stomach churned with the realization that I was bound to the stiff man next to me. I was required to bear his children when I had no idea how _that_ actually happened.

There was a sudden, harsh squeeze around my fingers and I turned to Peeta, peering at me, his eyes unreadable.

“You didn’t repeat the vow,” he said simply.

“Sorry…I spaced out,” I replied weakly.

Peeta nodded before looking back to the official at the podium as they continued our joining.

++++++

The night we conceived our daughter was a night of firsts.

Those who had once been stylists for the Games were now dressers for weddings and subsequent wedding nights. My stylist, Octavia, had decided on dark red for my nightgown.

“Aren’t brides supposed to be in white?” I asked as she styled my dark waves in front of the room’s vanity mirror.

“Not for you,” she replied cheerfully. “You, my dear, have too much fire in those grey eyes to be pure.”

But, I was pure.

When I was left alone, I stared down at the gold hairbrushes on the surface of the vanity table. I had never seen anything so opulent in my entire life. The shade of the set is similar to Prim’s rich yellow tresses; my sister just turned 12 and I can breathe easy knowing that she is safe from this law. I have hopes that this wave of newborns will eventually abolish the requirement by the time she is of age.

“Do you like them?” A solid voice asks into the still room air.

I turn to find Peeta walking towards me and wordlessly I stand. His eyes look over my long, silk gown with the lace bodice covering my slight cleavage. My own stare is on his linen pants and white shirt; I can see his strong chest and well-formed abdomen through the thinness of the cloth.

“I have never seen anything so…rich,” I respond. “District 12 is full of silver and greys…smoke and coal…” My eyes look to the gold handles and I reach to touch one. “These look like the sun.”

I can feel him approaching and let my stare continue on the brushes. When I get back to District 12, I will tell them of the beautiful room with the golden brushes and of the lovely sparkling streets.

My golden husband, I will keep to myself.

His hand goes to my shoulder and I feel a strange warmth seep into my skin. There’s a stirring in-between my legs. Maybe they’ve put something in my food or in my drink because this is the first time that I’ve felt this gush along my thighs and the first time that my nipples have tightened at a simple touch.

Slowly, I turn around and meet Peeta’s knowing eyes from under lacquered lashes.

“Have you ever been with anyone, Katniss?” he asks, lifting my chin.

I shake my head. “No, contrary to my nightgown color.”

Peeta chuckles in a low timbre that causes my body to inch towards him.

“I have a hard time believing that you haven’t had a boyfriend,” he replies. “How about a kiss?”

Mortified, I shake my head. “I’ve spent most of time trying to stay alive to care about being kissed.” My eyes go to him and I muster a smile for him. “And, you—have you had many women?”

“I’ve spent too much time fighting to focus on that kind of thing,” Peeta answers honestly. “But, if you must know, I have kissed and been with a few women—nothing that lasted more than a night.”

“Now you have a wife for a lifetime,” I say wryly. “Someone to bed whenever you feel the urge.”

“Listen.” My head snaps up at his hard tone. “I have never forced anyone to be with me. I won’t make myself out to be a monster for your benefit. There is nothing more that I want but a marriage with respect and loyalty. We don’t have to be in love with one another, but we can be kind to each other.”

“I’m sorry.” My hand reaches to take his. “I don’t know how to be a wife.”

Peeta smiles softly. “I don’t know how to be a husband.” He leads me towards the bed in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of it, and gazing up at me. “I’m not a gentle man, but I won’t hurt you, Katniss. Nothing will be done without your consent.”

“But, I have to have a baby,” I say tightly. “I’ve never kissed anyone but I can birth a child.”

Surprisingly, the sting of tears permeates in my eyes.

“Come here,” Peeta commands. I approach, standing between his legs awaiting instruction. “Kiss me.” He sees my hesitation and his hands go to each wrist, bringing my palms to his sculpted cheeks. “No woman should live their life without being kissed, especially one in such a pretty gown.”

I let out a tight breath. “How do I…” His eyes are so damn blue. “…start?”

“Just lean down—and kiss me,” he instructs.

Bending, I move to his face so our lips are aligned—just a bit of space in-between. His breath smells like sugar and, without thinking, I lick my lips.

His breath hitches at the move. “Are you sure you’ve never seduced a man before?”

I shake my head. “Never. You are my first, Peeta.”

He grins to himself. “I’m honored.”

Our first kiss is a simple brush of lips, careful…tentative…but full of hope.

However, his hum of encouragement fills my body with long-buried longing.

“Again, Katniss,” Peeta says, a tender plea in his voice. “Kiss me again.”

I nod, still dizzy from our first contact. My hands move to his face once more and I tilt my head before bringing my lips to his. This time around, his tongue sweeps into my mouth possessively, sucking and swirling along my own.

I can feel the dampness…down there, slicking down my thighs since I’m wearing no underwear. Peeta’s hands caress my upper arms gently before he fingers the straps along my shoulders. I want him to take off the gown…I want him to touch me. So I shift, causing the straps in his grasp to fall from my skin.

The fabric drapes at my feet and as I pull away, I step out of the gown so that he can see me.

Small breasts, no hips, and a plain face—nothing akin to a Capitol beauty.

“I know I’m not so developed,” I begin. “My mother was a late bloomer—”

Peeta shakes his head. “No.” He pulls me towards him. “You are perfect.” My legs part as his mouth goes to my flat abdomen, pressing downward kisses to my soaked slit. His hands cup my bottom to push me closer and I cry out with that first swipe of his tongue to my plump, aroused outer lips. “You’re delicious…”

Those muffled words cause my first climax; that overwhelming sensation that makes you forget everything and everyone around you. My whole body reacts—my skin tingling and flushed with fire and my muscles convulsing as my essence spills onto his eager tongue.

Peeta catches me just as my knees buckle and scoops me up into his arms to lay me down. He joins me on the bed, resting on his side as he toys with my body, his fingers tapping along my sharp nipples. I hiss at his touch, eager to prolong this feeling of oblivion.

When his eyes meet mine, I blush. What if he doesn’t like the way I look or sound? Or my kisses?

“You’re thinking too much, Katniss,” he chides and I bury my face in his shoulder.

“I’m trying not to,” I reply. “It’s hard not to after so much…kissing.”

He leans down to kiss my shoulder and then my lips. I can taste myself, musky and not entirely unpleasant. In fact, I am aroused by it.

“Yes, kissing can be nice,” Peeta agrees. “Do you want more?” I nod eagerly and he shifts to remove his clothes. “Have you ever seen a naked man?”

I shake my head. “It’s just my mom and my sister with me. My father died long ago.”

Peeta is muscular, broad, and golden-skinned. Like his face, he is sculpted to perfection, sharp lines of firm flesh turning my mind to mush. My hand reaches to his abdomen, heading downward, curious and keen to know what differentiates the sexes.

That part of him is thick and long. The tip is pointed and dark with blood. My fingers wrap around it to feel his velvet length and he moves with my motions, bringing his hand to mine to show me how to please him.

“Katniss…” His voice is honeyed, causing a whimper to fall from my lips. “…will you allow me to…?”

“Yes.” I lay back and Peeta hovers over me immediately, covering my body with his own. My legs relax to let his hips in-between. I can feel his head, just brushing against my entrance. “Please.”

“This is going to hurt,” he tells me. “It might be better if it happens quickly.”

“O-o-okay,” I agree shakily as Peeta anchors my thigh above his hip. “Just do it.”

Lining himself up with his other hand, I hold my breath as he quickly thrusts into my virgin cunt.

“Ahh…” The pain is surprising and I see him panic for a moment. I can’t help but breathlessly laugh. “Don’t tell me that Peeta Mellark, the lauded hero, is afraid of a virgin.”

“You’re my first virgin,” Peeta tells me, his blue eyes glazed with pleasure. “So wonderfully tight…” He moves slowly. “…like your perfect little cunt was made for me.” I feel the pain fading at his words and my own pelvis moving to accommodate him. “I don’t think anyone has ever made me want to come this soon.”

“Move…” My hips buck, eager for him to hit me deep. I close my eyes, feeling his lips along my chest, pressing to my nipples, and sucking hungrily. “Faster, Peeta...”

“Tell me what you want me to do, wife.” My eyes open to his feral smile. “I will give you the world if you ask.”

“Fuck me,” I blurt out before I lose my courage. “Fuck me _hard_.”

Like a man possessed, his hips thrust harshly and instead of pain, I feel that biting goodness. My own hips meet his, no longer caring about the pain or the consequence of such overeager lovemaking. I want to feel good…feel loved…I want to feel alive.

And, when Peeta comes—I come to life.

I yowl sharply into the air, our centers pressed together as I arch to let him fill my womb.

My body is thrumming—every muscle, organ, and sense reacting to our coming together.

“Katniss…my wife…still pure to me…” Peeta whispers in my ear. “Too pure for someone like me.”

I fall asleep to his gentle touch against my bare back.

When I awaken, Peeta is gone—and I am pregnant.

++++++

The letter comes four years later.

I am back in District 12 and Adara—or Ada—has just turned four. She has dark hair like mine, but the fineness of her strands is from Peeta, as are her luminous blue eyes. She stares at me from across the breakfast table as I read the Capitol-issued letter from Peeta.

He doesn’t explain his absence, only telling me that he is coming to District 12.

“What is it, Mommy?” Ada asks.

She can read me like no one else can.

“Your father is coming home,” I tell her.

Ada doesn’t respond. Instead, she jumps from her chair and rounds the table to climb onto my lap. The letter is taken from my hands and into her grasp. She traces her tiny fingers over his stilted print, reading the bit of prose before meeting my eyes once more.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

There has been no communication between Peeta and me since our wedding night, only the impression from Capitol officials that he was back on duty. Upon my arrival back in District 12 from the Capitol, my family was moved to a home in the former Victors’ Village—compensation for being abandoned by my Rebellion-famous husband.

My one light in all of this is Ada.

She was born during a winter thunderstorm—a rarity in our part of Panem. With each crash of lightning, I could feel her eager to escape my young body and with the final flash, she came into the world full of the fire that I once had.

“Then we should get our place ready for a Daddy,” Ada tells me. “What do Daddies like?”

“I didn’t know your father very long, sweetheart,” I explain. “I don’t know what he likes.”

“Well, I am his daughter and I will know,” my daughter sniffs haughtily.

I bite back my smile, seeing her pert nose in the air. That expression is not from me and can only belong to Peeta.

“Okay,” I relent. “Tomorrow, we will go and find things for your father.”

“Daddy,” Ada corrects.

Instead of responding, I wrap my arms around my daughter and give her a kiss.

++++++

However, the next morning is interrupted by a soft knocking on the door.

Ada is still asleep, staying up to practice her reading so she can show her father how smart she is. I indulge her, letting her look through her books which were given to her by my mother and Prim before they left for District 4.

Opening the door, I almost fall over.

“Hello, Katniss,” Peeta greets me in a roughened voice.

“I thought you were dead,” I respond.

He smiles in amusement, his handsome features even riper with age. “Thought or hoped?”

I step aside to let him in. “For Ada’s sake, I wanted you alive.”

Peeta walks in and I try not to react seeing his slight limp. He meets my eyes as I close the door behind him, taking the bag from his shoulder.

“You’re not 16 anymore,” he states, his eyes moving up and down my figure.

“A baby can change someone a lot,” I reply. “What happened to you?”

“Even though the Rebellion was over, there were still hardcore fanatics for Snow.” Peeta struggles to get out of his heavy coat and I reach to help him out of it. He is even brawnier now, but the burden of war has made his once strong countenance sag under pressure. “I had to make sure they were dispatched—for her.”

“It would have been better if you had been there for her,” I find myself telling him as we walk into the sitting room. “Luckily, Ada is very forgiving. I, however, am not.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be,” he replies as he sits down. “Ada is a pretty name.”

“It’s short for Adara,” I explain as I sit in the opposing chair. “It means ‘fire’.”

“Sounds right.” Peeta’s stare still bothers me, its intensity still making my insides tremble. “Who do you think she takes after?”

Small, almost imperceptible steps catch my ear and I give him a smile.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Ada has awakened.

++++++

“And, this is a picture of Uncle Haymitch,” Ada explains, later that evening. She points to the tall, dark-haired figure drawn in her sketchbook. “He is my godfather and lives across the way. There are geese in his backyard. One bit me last week.”

Peeta laughs, his arm wrapping even tighter around Ada’s little body. “I bet that didn’t sit well with you.”

“No, it didn’t—but they are geese and don’t know any better,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. “I know first aid and Mommy helped me with my finger. She gave it a kiss and I was better.” Ada presents her bandaged thumb to Peeta. “See? All wrapped up and better.”

He gives her wrapped finger an affectionate kiss. “You are a remarkable girl, Ada. Like your mother.”

“Where have you been, Daddy?” Ada suddenly asks.

“I had to find some bad people,” he tells her. “I didn’t want you to never not feel safe.”

“Mommy always makes sure of that,” she tells him as I walk into the room. Ada beams at me. “She sings to me when I have nightmares and when I’m sad, she tells me how you found her in the Capitol—how you picked her so that you both could have me.”

Peeta meets my eyes under the soft firelight of the room. “The truth is that your Mama could have had any man she wanted. After all, she is very smart and an extremely talented archer. Also, your mother was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. No one in the Capitol compared to her and she chose me.”

“Oh…” Her blue eyes are wide with amazement. “I can believe a story like that.”

“Ada, it’s time to wash up for bed,” I instruct. “I want you in your pajamas in five minutes.”

“Can Daddy tuck me in?” she asks, her pink lips pursed out. “Please?”

“Yes, but give us a few minutes,” I reply. “I’ll need to help your father to his room.”

She nods before hopping off of Peeta and darting up the stairs.

I turn to my husband. “You didn’t have to lie for her sake. Ada knows about the law and how she came about.”

“You _are_ very smart and great with a bow and arrow,” he starts. “I watched you a few days before we met. You were in the former Tribute training facility and showing some folks from District 11 how to wield a bow. You were patient and kind to everyone. I saw how everyone looked at you, especially the men. I asked Dr. Aurelius if he considered us a good match—and the good thing was he did.”

“Why were we good for one another other than for breeding genetically-advanced children?”

“Because the doctor thought that you would bring light into my life,” Peeta says. “And for one brief moment, you did.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Why are you here, Peeta?”

“Because of her—and because of you,” he replies softly. “I told you that we might not love each other but we could be kind to one another…and respectful…and loyal—if you give me that chance.”

I want to reach out for him, wrap myself in his embrace. At the same time, I’m angry at his leaving me when I was already partly in love with him.

I rise. “We should get upstairs. Ada waits for no one.”

++++++

Two nights later, I hear his shout.

Rushing out of my room, I quickly look in on Ada, who is fast asleep, before entering his bedroom. Peeta warned me that he had nightmares and they could get volatile.

He is thrashing in his bed, scratches on his arms, and whimpering.

“Peeta…” My hand goes to his shoulder and I just barely bend my head before his hand whips through the air. “Peeta!” I have to get him under control and so I quickly straddle him in his active slumber. My hands go to his face. “Wake up!”

He gasps loudly, gulping for breath. “Katniss?”

I push his sweaty hair from his forehead. “You had a nightmare.”

Peeta nods before looking up at me. “Why are you on top of me?”

Quickly, I move off him and sit on the empty space of his bed. “I didn’t want you to wake up Ada.” Peeta takes in another breath, this time slower and calmer. “What happened?”

“I walked down the main street of town today—past the spot where my parents’ bakery once stood,” he explains. “I wasn’t there for the air raid on the Merchant sector of town. I couldn’t save them or my brothers.”

“There were so many unfortunate losses,” I say. “Why do you think they implemented mandatory marriages and breeding?”

“I’m afraid of being happy, Katniss.” His eyes flit to the window where the light of the moon seeps into his dark room. “Every time I am, my dreams tell me different…like this dream, I watched my family die and there was nothing I could do—like in real life.”

“Not all dreams come true.” I laid down on his pillow. “If you dream about something happening to Ada, will you run away again?”

“No. I’ll do anything to protect her from the bad,” he tells me vehemently. “And, I won’t leave you alone again.”

“I survived.” My smile is careful. “It’s why we are so well-suited.”

Peeta stares at me for a long moment. “You know, when I was away, most of my dreams were about losing you.”

“You never had me, Peeta.”

He sighs, his mouth tight. “Then you have to acknowledge that some bad dreams are real.”

“If I do, will you go to sleep?” I ask in exasperation.

“Will you stay with me?”

His request, so sad and earnest, causes me to nod and let him take my hand before going to sleep.

++++++

Over the next few weeks, I stay with Peeta until he falls asleep, tucking him in after tuck in Ada. It works for awhile until I begin to miss the feeling of my own bed, worn in from my many nights alone. Finally, I urge him to come to me if he is ever afraid to sleep.

That turns out to be every night.

I start to wake up with him beside me, curled up in a ball, and slumbering heavily. He looks like a child when he sleeps and my treacherous mind wanders to the thought of a son with his blond locks and my steel eyes.

Over time, we fall into a routine.

On weekdays, we walk Ada to school. Our daughter relishes in showing off her Hero-Daddy to her amazed classmates. Peeta blushes seeing all the young ones knowing that most of them were conceived in the same way that our daughter was. Gale and Madge’s son, Ryder, is in the same year and so we see them during drop-off.

How different we look from them. The Hawthornes are always hand-in-hand while Peeta and I remain a good distance for propriety sake.

After we drop Ada off, I set out to hunt in the woods behind Victors’ Village. My husband has a taste for squirrel which he remembers being his father’s preference while Ada loves wild turkeys—as long as she doesn’t see their carcasses. While I’m gone, Peeta will work around the house, repairing things or learning to cook. Sometimes, he and Haymitch will play a game of chess on our neighbor’s front porch. Peeta hasn’t heard all of his stories about his time as mentor and Haymitch enjoys telling them.

We pick up Ada in the late afternoon, walking through town so we can see the new buildings coming up. Business is slowly picking up in our District and we talk about the new stores that we want to visit or have built at some point.

We always go silent after passing the spot where Mellark Bakery once stood.

I prepare dinner while Ada and Peeta focus on her homework. Then after dinner, mostly run by our daughter, we tuck her in and go to our bed.

On weekends, Peeta and Ada cook breakfast together. It is one of those weekends when I wake up later than usual; the smell of pancakes rouses me and I make my way to the kitchen.

“Daddy, why are blueberries blue?”

“I think it has something to do with their genetic mutation,” Peeta explains.

“Oh, so they’re just like me!”

“What do you mean, dearest?” I smile at his affectionate moniker.

“At school, we learned about genetics and how a lot of us were picked from the bestest Mommy and Daddy so we would be perfect children,” Ada says cheerfully.

As I get to the doorway, I watch Peeta lift our girl onto the counter.

“Ada, you know that even if you aren’t perfect, your Mommy and I love you just the same, right?”

“I know,” our daughter tells him. “Mommy says that I’m perfect just for her.”

“And, you are perfect just for me,” Peeta assures her. “Our loveliest Adara Everdeen Mellark.”

Ada beckons him closer so she can wrap her arms around his strong neck.

“Daddy, are you perfect just for Mommy?” She tilts her head at him in intense interest, her long lashes batting at him. “Like how Uncle Gale and Aunt Madge are perfect for each other?”

There is a pause and I hold my breath waiting for his response. I know Peeta’s skills in espionage have made his hearing unbelievably sharp. Perhaps he knows I’m already there.

“Your mother was very young when we got married,” he finally says. “And, you know that I am four years older than she is. It is hard for someone as pure, sweet, and beautiful to love someone like me. I never burdened her by asking her to love me. I only wanted her to love you with all her heart which I know she did.”

“Daddy, you’re silly,” Ada responds with a giggle. “Mommy loves you. On your wedding anniversary, she gets very sad and when I go to sleep, I can hear her cry. Sometimes Uncle Haymitch will give her his clear bottles for drinking and she’ll go to sleep right after her sad time so I won’t hear her…but I do.” She asks him to let her back onto the floor and I see her stare up him, her expression screwed up sternly. “Your wedding anniversary is coming up. We should make Mommy a cake. I remember she told me that she always liked Grandpa’s cake. She would pass by the bakery window to look at them. She even remembers when you used to design them.”

I can almost imagine him crooking his brow at this information. “She did?”

“Of course, Daddy!” Ada looks at him like he should already know. “She also likes blueberry muffins. That’s why we’re making pancakes as a substitute.”

Backing away to give them some time, I misstep and the tell-tale creak of the hallway floorboard sounds. It just barely makes a sound, but I’m know that I’m caught.

“And, your mother can help after she’s done being the world’s worst spy,” Peeta intones, jest in his voice.

I step out of my hiding place and Ada rushes over to hug my legs.

My eyes go to my approaching husband and when he’s in front of me, he holds out the spatula.

“You’re in charge of flipping the pancakes.”

“I don’t know how,” I reply.

Peeta leans, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. My cheeks warm at the sensation and I can see in his eyes that he enjoys seeing me flustered.

“I will teach you.”

It is a very good weekend.

++++++

“Ada, what is going on?”

“Mommy.” Our daughter’s tone is annoyed at my impatience. “You have to wait because we’re not ready yet.” Her tiny hands cover my eyes as I sit at our dinner table. “Can you guess what we’re doing?”

“I don’t know.” I sniff into the air. “But from the smell of your hands, it’s something sweet.”

“Ohhh! You’re no fun!” she reprimands me in that funny adult-like voice of hers. “Just be surprised.”

“Between you and your father…” I sigh, trying not to grin. Ada is very serious in her role as secret keeper. “Okay, I will wait.”

I don’t have to wait very long because after a moment, I can hear the slight lug of Peeta’s steps coming from the kitchen and towards me. Ada is giggling in my ear and I hear Peeta shushing her gently. She is beginning to bounce in excitement, judging from the rapid thump-thump on the hardwood floor of the dining room.

“Okay, Katniss.” His mouth just brushes against my ear and I steel myself not to tremble. “Open your eyes.”

The cake in front of me is nothing short of perfection; buttercream with carefully crafted fondant flowers on top. The flowers alone must have taken hours to make and I nearly cry out realizing what kind they are.

“Primroses,” Peeta informs me with a smile. “Ada and I just planted some outside today, too.”

I have missed Prim terribly and she is so busy that we speak sporadically in-between her shifts at the clinic in District 4. Ada must have told him about my missing her Aunt Prim since this is the first time that we’ve been apart for so long.

Peeta pulls out a chair for Ada before sitting to my left They both wait expectantly for me to say something.

“Why did you make me a cake?” I suddenly ask.

“It’s our wedding anniversary,” Peeta says, his cheeks flushing. “I’ve missed too many and heard from a certain someone that you used to like my cakes.”

“I did…I mean—I do!” I smile at them both. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I never bought you flowers when we first met,” my husband tells me sheepishly. “I meant to, but I was just coming from my base in District 13.”

“I thought your very smooth line about our tests being compatible was the real kicker,” I retort and Peeta chuckles. “I bet I made an impression on you—just barely a woman in an oversized dress given to her by her mother.”

“Your dress was cornflower blue, fitted at the waist, with matching cloth buttons,” Peeta recalls. “Your hair was in a braided crown along the top of your head and while we were talking, you would bounce on each foot like Ada does when she is contemplating something.”

“I didn’t think you’d remembered.” I’m surprised by the thickness in my voice. “You were in combat boots and all-black military gear. I don’t think I was ever so intimidated by anyone.”

I won’t admit that it was the first time that my sexual curiosity was piqued; the fit of his armor having been molded to his body and leaving my imagination running wild with what I saw during our wedding night.

“Same here,” he says quietly.

“Daddy, Mommy—may I _please_ have cake?” Ada suddenly pleas. “You can keep staring at each other after you’ve cut me a slice. I would do it myself but Mommy says I can’t use knives.”

I laugh and, after a moment, so does Peeta.

“Okay, okay…” I stand up and press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll get you your slice!”

++++++

“Thank you for helping me with the cake,” Peeta says to Ada. He is tucking her in for the night and I smile at his broad, hulking figure from behind the doorway to the pink bedroom. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy,” she responds. “Mommy looked very happy tonight.” Her small hand reaches for his, uncertainty in her large eyes. “Daddy—are you going to go away again?”

I see the nervous bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “No, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere—unless you or your Mommy tell me to leave. I’m here…always.”

Ada nods solemnly. “Good.” She reaches under her pillow and pulls something out to show him. “This is for you. Mommy had it in her things and she gave it to me one day when I was really sad about you.”

Peeta opens the round locket, revealing the picture I had put in it of myself and Ada on the day she was born.

“Oh sweetheart…” I hear the tears in his voice and hastily wipe my own eyes. “This is very important. Are you sure you want to give this to me?”

“Mommy’s Daddy, Grandpa, had pictures of her and Aunt Prim in this locket and it’s the only thing that she had left that was his.”

Peeta leans down to give her kiss, the locket in his palm. “I love you, Ada.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

I cross the hall to our bedroom—when did it become _our_ room? It’s strange how things fall together, how easy they come to be, how everything that was just for me has become ours.

It doesn’t bother me. Instead, it comforts me.

Peeta just being home comforts me.

My eyes focus in on a box on our bed, wrapped with a red bow. Sitting in front of it, I pull the bow before lifting the lid and I let out a shocked breath at what’s inside.

Golden hair brushes, just like the ones I admired in the Capitol.

I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I was in that bedroom, dressed in a burgundy gown and just barely a wife.

“I remember that look.” Peeta enters our room, a wisp of a smile on his lips. “That enchantment and that tenderness…like you couldn’t believe the brushes were real.”

“They were the most beautiful things that I had ever seen, the same color of Prim’s hair,” I say, remembering the awe that I had felt. “I thought that if anything, I would have the memory of these beautiful brushes if people asked me about my time in the Capitol.” My mouth curls up in a small smile before I look into his eyes. “I got a much different souvenir instead.”

Peeta sits next to me. “And, what exactly was that?”

“Ada.” I chuckle lightly and his face brightens. “She was much better than golden brushes.”

“I had meant to give them to you,” he begins. “I bought them after that first night and kept them. You’re only allowed a rucksack while you’re on your missions and they were always inside. I told myself that I needed to keep myself alive to give them to you—so you would know how much that night meant to me.” His hand reaches for mine. “It had been the first time in a long time that I felt human again.”

“I don’t understand.” I look at our joined hands, savoring the feeling of togetherness between us. “What happened, Peeta? What happened to you that made you forget humanity…your soul…your heart?”

“The year I ran away, a good friend of mine had been chosen for the Games,” he says, his blue eyes lost in old memories. “He was killed in the initial rush for the Cornucopia. To everyone, he was just another fallen tribute—and he would be forgotten as they got further into the Games.”

He shifts so that we are closer together.

“I decided that I didn’t want to be just forgotten, so I ran. I had heard rumors of District 13 and was taken into their quarters once I hit their boundary. District 13 were members of former military organizations and they trained me to kill, to have no mercy, to focus on the mission—kill Snow. You can’t have a heart when it comes to that kind of thing—it will break you until you don’t know what or who you are.”

“Oh…” I let out a shaky breath, gathering my thoughts. “Did you know about Ada and me?”

“I always kept tabs on you,” he replies. “Paylor was especially interested in our marriage and so she notified me when Ada was born. My commission money went into buying this house. I wanted somewhere for Ada to be able to run around freely. I was fighting for that ability, fighting so she’d never know the fear that you and I had when the Games were still around.”

“I thought that all wives of the law were given homes like this,” I respond and he shakes his head. “We have a very good life here.”

“Katniss, will you tell me about the day that Ada was born?” He presents the locket to me. “I’ll always regret not being there.”

“My mother and Prim helped me through,” I say. “My pains started in the morning, continued on during a thunderstorm, and by that evening, she was here along with the first snow. I remember holding her with nothing around us but the firelight in our chimney, reflecting on her skin. She was beautiful and golden…and all mine.”

Peeta is crestfallen at my words. “I would’ve given anything to be there.”

“You have the rest of her life to be there for her,” I assure him.

“And, you?” His eyes are on me in nervous anticipation and I feel the heat of his stare, brushing me with soft licks of molten flame. “Will I have you for the rest of your life?” Peeta lifts my chin to direct my own anxious eyes at him. “I know that you don’t love me now, Katniss—but give me a chance to try for a place in your heart.”

How can I describe the feeling that I have inside? This longing, this need to have him with me…always. I think my sixteen-year-old self loved him—so stony yet passionate—and it had broken me when he had disappeared. And now…the twenty-year-old me has grown to love him once more—this time, it was slow to bloom—like the first flower after a harsh winter.

I love him, broken and unsure—because we’re the same.

“Peeta.” He meets my watery gaze. “Kiss me.”

He lets out a half-laugh, half-sob before bringing his hands to my damp cheeks. My jaw aches and it’s because I haven’t smile this hard…ever.

“One day, Katniss, you’re going to love me as much as I love you.”

His mouth moves over mine, covering it in his deep kiss. I reach for him, my arms wrapping around his neck to draw him closer against me. Caught in the moment, I straddle him, losing myself in the touch and the taste of my husband.

When the moon is high in the sky, we finally draw apart—his naked skin covering mine as he moves my sweaty bangs from my forehead to kiss my brow tenderly.

And after a long moment of quiet caresses, he says, “You love me.”

It’s not a question.

Because Peeta can see me—all of me. He can see my heart in the way I kiss him back, the way I had laid him down, the way I call out his name when I fell apart in his arms.

“What can I give you when you’ve already given me so much?” he asks, his voice full with happiness.

“A son,” I reply, my fingers reaching to weave through his soft, damp waves lovingly. “A son with golden hair and a golden heart—like his father.”

**FIN.**


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